


A Tie For Your Trust

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bondage, Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-10
Updated: 2007-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-27 11:42:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10808334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Ron wants something that Harry isn't sure he knows how to give. It's up to Harry to decide if he can trust Ron enough to let himself go.





	A Tie For Your Trust

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes:

This was written for [](http://nefyr.livejournal.com/profile)[**nefyr**](http://nefyr.livejournal.com/) who replied to my drabble meme with the prompt _ties_. Again, this clearly is not a drabble. lol

Much love and thanks to my wonderful beta [](http://hel-bee.livejournal.com/profile)[**hel_bee**](http://hel-bee.livejournal.com/).

* * *

“Are you sure?” Ron asks.

Harry hesitates, knowing that he isn’t sure; knowing that he feels exposed and definitively more than a bit hesitant. He bites his lip, torn between exactly what he wants and just what he’s most afraid of.

“That’s mine,” he tells Harry, nudging his lips apart to stop Harry from biting too hard, and kissing him softly in return.

He smiles at Harry, that genuine smile that is so Ron, and Harry knows there is no way he could so no. He knows that this isn’t about power or control, or about pain and dominance.

It’s about trust and love. It’s Harry letting Ron take control not because he should or to make Ron feel good, but because he can and because he trusts Ron. It’s about walking that fine line they’ve never crossed and seeing just how far they can go.

Harry closes his eyes, breathing deeply, and opening his mouth. “Yes.”

Ron just looks at him, searching his face for any sign of discomfort or hesitation, for any sign that this isn’t what Harry really wants. After a few moments during which Harry swears he could feel his whole body heating up under such intense scrutiny, Ron seems placated and grabs the ties off the side table.

Harry stretches out, allowing Ron to secure each of his arms and legs to the bed. He closes his eyes, focusing on the brush of Ron’s skin against his, and the smell of sweat and arousal in the room. He tries hard not to think about the knots around his wrists and the fact that if something happened he couldn’t be the first one to do something about it.

Once Ron has secured the last arm, Harry feels himself stiffen automatically; knowing exactly what is coming next.

“Relax,” Ron whispers into his ear, placing a line of kisses down his forearm to his elbow. He pauses for several moments to rest his head against the pulse in Harry’s wrist, and then resumes his trail back along Harry’s arm and across his chest, then towards his face. “Perfect.”

Harry shudders, unwilling to be overwhelmed and instead focusing on Ron; his lips, his smell, his caresses and his praises. Harry opens his mouth, licking his lips and wordlessly begging for a kiss. Ron responds immediately, attaching his mouth to Harry’s, licking and nipping; kissing Harry until they’re both breathless, chests heaving and cocks achingly hard.

Ron moves away suddenly and Harry is so desperate for the friction of Ron’s body that it takes him several moments to realize that Ron is lifting his head, gently tying the last scarf around his eyes. Except this time he’s not as terrified, he’s just aroused. He is desperate for Ron to touch him, and without being able to see Ron everything feels magnified.

Ron’s tongue feels hotter and heavier along his neck. All he wants is to know what it might feel like to have it on his cock instead. To have a strong tongue and soft lips wrapped around his cock, to be engulfed in red hot heat while shrouded in darkness.

“Fuck,” Harry curses, struggling against the ties, trying desperately to arch into Ron’s touch.

“In good time, Harry,” Ron replies easily, stoking a finger along Harry’s quivering thigh and barely pressing against his opening.

“Ron, please,” Harry breathes, barely able to speak from the overwhelming sensations.

“Please what, Harry? Tell me? Tell me what you want, what you need. Tell me what it feels like.”

“Anything, Ron, everything. I want your mouth on my cock, want your cock in me. I want to feel you taking me so deep you can‘t see anything but the way it looks like to see your hard cock sliding in and out of my body.”

Ron moans and Harry thinks that just maybe he feels even less inhibited with the blindfold on.

“Fuck, Harry, do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

Ron’s voice sounds as shaky as Harry feels and that makes him feel emboldened, knowing he’s not the only one so deeply affected.

“Show me, Ron. Show me how it makes you feel.” Harry figures if he’s forced to tell Ron everything, the lest Ron can do is show him.

Ron’s hands begin to stroke Harry’s thighs, massaging all the way up until he reaches the bottom of Harry’s hip bone. His fingers begin to stray now, one hand massaging at Harry’s entrance while the other begins to stroke his cock at a painfully slow pace. Ron’s fingers are cool and slick and Harry doesn’t even have the coherence of mind to wonder when Ron had time to coat them, all he knows is that the cool substance is a shock against the heat of Ron’s hands and the tightness of his own body.

Ron pushes one finger all the way in, short stroke not doing much more than teasing Harry. After a moment he begins to massage in earnest, loosing the tight ring of muscle and adding a second finger. By the time Ron adds a third finger Harry can barely breath. His arms and leg muscles are beginning to quiver and his cock is so hard he can feel it dripping pre-come. All he wants is to feel Ron’s cock sink into him, wants to know what it’s like to feel that slow burn without any distractions, without being able to run his fingers down Ron’s back or stare into Ron’s eyes. He’s powerless to do anything but submit to the feeling of being taken, of being filled and consumed.

Fortunately Harry doesn’t have to wait long before Ron is removing his fingers. Harry’s legs clench in anticipation as he feels the blunt head of Ron’s cock slowly pushing inside.

Finally Ron is fully sheathed within Harry, and he takes no time at all in developing a steady rhythm. He slides in and out, a hand gliding across Harry’s belly and occasionally giving a few tight strokes to his neglected cock.

Harry wants to tell Ron what it feels like, wants to tell him how much he just wants to fucking move and be able to touch Ron. Wants to tell him how much he wants to wrap his legs around Ron’s back and pull him in as deep as he can go. Except he can’t find the words, because he knows they’re only partially true. He realizes, suddenly, that he likes this; loves the feeling of being so powerless yet so in control. He can feel everything, sense every movement of Ron’s body. Everything feels magnified tenfold and that kind of awareness makes Harry feel heady with an entirely different kind of power.

“M’close,” Ron gasps, though Harry doesn't need Ron to tell him. He knows by the slightly frantic thrusting of Ron’s body and the almost frenzied way he has begun to stroke Harry.

Harry hears Ron begin to make a tiny whimpering noise and knows he’s about to come any second now, and the realization that he knows Ron’s body so well sends a tiny thrill through his body. Submitting willingly this time, he begins to grunt and groan along with Ron, allowing Ron’s passion and excitement to consume them both until they’re both coming with a series of guttural moans and shallow thrusts, trying to ride it as far out as possible.

Ron collapses on top of Harry’s body in boneless heap, crushing him and making it almost difficult to breath. Harry doesn’t mind.

Harry mutters in protest when Ron gets up to move, though relents when he realizes that Ron’s only gone to untie him. He removes the blindfold first and Harry squints at the light. Even the moonlight streaming in through the window seems bright to his overly sensitive eyes.

“Ow, fuck,” Harry curses, once Ron has removed all the ties. He instinctively curls into himself, trying to soothe the aching muscles in his wrists and thighs.

“You okay?” Ron asks, and Harry notes the obvious worry in his voice.

“M’fine. Just…just a bit sore is all.”

Ron seems less than convinced and begins the massage the cramps out of Harry’s legs. Gently easing them away from the curled position of Harry’s body until they are almost perfectly straight. Once satisfied with Harry’s legs, Ron scoots up the bed and pulls Harry’s left arms towards him, massaging out the cramps and lavishing kisses to the tender skin around his wrists. Then he moves on to the right arm.

Harry screws his eyes shut, willingly away the sudden desire cry or scream; unable to figure out how this could seem even more intimate than the fantastic shag they just had.

Ron kisses the top of his head, pulling Harry flush against his body and whispering something that sounds suspiciously like words of endearment. Harry doesn’t respond, doesn’t want to embarrass Ron with overly sentimental words. He doesn’t need to tell him, it isn’t his style and he knows Ron understands that.

Instead he places a firm kiss to Ron’s collar, burrowing in to the safety of Ron’s welcoming arms; drifting asleep in the only place he was ever truly meant to be.


End file.
